Have You Seen What's Happened Since
by snowfwake6
Summary: After being arrested at the Gorbeau Tenement, Claudette Thenardier is sent to the Paris jail where she is left to do nothing but reminisce on her childhood and how her life of crime began.
1. Stone Walls

The Paris jail was not a place Claudette Thenardier was unfamiliar with. The cracking stone walls covered in dirt and climbing weeds, the stench of people rotting away in their cells, the cries of those who have gone mad living in a cage of rock and metal bars. Claudette knew it all too well.

Many a times was she put in the Paris jail after getting caught out late with the Patron-Minette. Most of these times were just petty misdemeanors, though. They would lock her and her husband up for the night to keep them off the streets, then let them back out again in the morning.

This time, though, things would be different, Claudette believed. For one thing, she was put in a cell towards the back of the jail, instead of near the front like usual. Another thing that was different than in past circumstances was that Claudette was not put in a cell with her husband. Her husband was sent down a different hallway to a different row of cells. Her two daughters were put near the front of the jail. This was good for them-it meant they wouldn't stay locked up for too long- but for Claudette, her situation was less than satisfactory.

She now shared a cell with an elderly woman with a wrinkled face and two long grey braids that fell haphazardly down her back. She sat on the edge of bench in a curled up ball and only moved twice, so far. Once was to eat her morning stale bread, and the other was to use the small chamber pot in the corner of the stall. Since Claudette's arrival to the Paris jail, yesterday, her cell mate had said not a word to her. Claudette labeled her as mute and decided that she would be having a very lonely time for however long she'd be locked up for.

She didn't know how long she'd be locked up for. It depended on how much the police knew. They showed up in their apartment while her husband and the rest of the gang were arguing over who would go out the window first. But how long had they been watching? Did they even see the old man that was there? How do they know to even come up?

The old man must have escaped to tell the police, Claudette decided. She scowled at the thought of him. It was his fault she was here. It was his fault she wasn't still in Montfermeil as an innkeeper. He came to her home eight years ago and took away from them their little servant girl who had earned them so much money.

They had finally had a chance to earn back that money. They could move out of Gorbeau and buy beautiful things for themselves and their daughters. But her husband blew things out of proportion and now she was in the Paris jail sitting on a hard stone bench staring at a cracking wall and a mute old woman.

Claudette heard a cry coming from somewhere else in the jail and thought about what her daughters where feeling right now. "Poor lonely place," she muttered.

This caused the old woman to turn and look at her. It was the first acknowledgement she had received from the woman and took it as a cue to keep speaking to her. "My daughters are here too," Claudette said. "Eponine and Azelma. Poor babies. They are young. Only fifteen and seventeen." She sighed. "I can remember when I was that young. I used to be beautiful. My hair was a bit lighter then- an orangish bright red. It was long then and always flying all over the place. I had these rosy cheeks then too. They came natural, but sometimes I would take my Mother's rough and brighten them up. It didn't matter to her- she never used it. She never left her house for that matter. She just lied around all day in her bedroom in a drunken state. I hardly even saw her. My sister, Marie, and I were the real mothers of our house. Marie cared for the little ones and made sure there was bread on the table, no matter what I had to do to get it. There were seven of us- Marie and I and five little brothers. I don't know what happened to them all. Marie lives in England as a scullery maid. I ended up as a criminal in Paris."

The old woman nodded but did not say a word. Claudette rested her head on the wall. "Where did things go wrong?" She whispered to herself.

She thought about the answer to the question realized there was no one complete answer. Maybe things went wrong when she was as young as four and her Father was killed by falling bricks. Maybe it was when her Mother had the boys. Maybe it was when Richard left them. Maybe it was when Claudette and her friends took that trip to Montfermeil and she met Beltane Thenardier.

A drop of water fell on Claudette's head from the moisture on the ceiling. A jail guard came to her cell and slid two trays under the bars. "Claudette, Agatha, dinner," he said.

"What happened to my daughters and my husband," Claudette asked the guard, putting her hands on the bars.

The guard shrugged and walked to the next cell with their dinners. Claudette scowled and picked up her dinner. She took it over to her bench and sat down with the tray on her lap.

The old woman moved off of her bench and took her tray from the ground. "So, your name is Agatha," Claudette said.

Agathe looked at Claudette and nodded. Her face was so wrinkly it was difficult to see her eyes. Her lips were cracking and her face was dirty. She had been in the Paris jail for quite some time. She took her tray to her bench.

"I'm Claudette, by the way," Claudette said. "I don't think I ever told you. Claudette Thenardier." She swished around the food on her tray- some sort of brown broth with unidentifiable little pieces of something floating around in it. She tasted one. It resembled a potato in taste so she concluded that that's what it was.

Another drop of water fell on her. "Damn leaky ceiling," she said. "Must be raining outside." She thought back the start of her troubles. It had also been a rainy evening. She closed her eyes and remembered.


	2. Reasons To Hate The Rain

There are many different reasons for one hating the rain. The rain could be spoiling some activity that needs to be done in dry weather, or an activity that is just generally unpleasant to do while it's raining. One might hate the rain because it makes the sky dark and everything on the ground a little more gloomy. One might also hate the rain because they associate the rain with a bad time. This is why Claudette hated the rain.

A little over forty years ago a massive storm hit Claudette's home town of Le Pin. Claudette was only four years old, but she still remembered the storm. It was the first vivid memory she had.

Sitting in her cell at the Paris jail, the dripping of the rain from the ceiling made Claudette think back to that storm. It was a Saturday evening, or maybe a Sunday. Claudette remembered it was some weekend because she remembered her Mother saying it was such a shame that her poor husband had to work on a day of rest.

Claudette's father was a construction worker. He worked long, hard hours building structures of brick in and around Le Pin. At the time of the storm, her father and his fellow construction workers were building a large cathedral in the middle of the town.

Le Pin, being a small town, did not have a proper cathedral. Residents of Le Pin had to go to the cathedral in Courtry, the next town over. But the Courtry cathedral wasn't very large itself, and it was getting full. When the new mayor was elected to Le Pin he ordered for a cathedral to be built in the center of Le Pin.

Not only was the night rainy, but there were very strong winds. The winds blew open the windows, making Claudette's mother and sister, Marie, have to tie them shut with rope. Marie was five year old then, but acted more like an adult than most adults. Claudette, on the other hand, was a very immature four year old who didn't understand why her Mother and Marie were worrying so much about the storm, and was mainly concerned about a little green marble she lost in a little knot hole on her kitchen floor.

Thunder and lightning started. "Mama, I'm scared. Will Papa be okay in this rain?" Marie asked, nervously.

"He has worked in the rain many times," Claudette's mother told Marie. "It is the high winds that are worrying me. I do hope he returns home soon."

Her Mother spoke softly and wisely. Claudette watched her from the floor, fiddling with her remaining marbles and not paying much attention to her mother's worries. She was not the type of little girl who was scared easily. She thought it foolish of her mother to be frightened to the rain.

For the next hour or so, all Claudette could remember was the howling noises the wind was making and her sister telling her repeatedly not to be scared, even though she wasn't.

The next thing she could remember was her old neighbor woman, she couldn't remember her name just her worried eyes, bursting through her doors shouting "Come quick! The cathedral has collapsed! The workers are trapped under the bricks!"

Her Mother let out a cry and followed the woman into the street, not even spending time putting on shoes. Marie and Claudette followed behind her, Marie dragging Claudette by the wrist.

They arrived at the sight of the collapse. The whole town had come out to see the disaster. The entire to half of the cathedral had blown off from the wind and landed on the ground below where the workers were working. It was quite a sight. Debris was everywhere. Some rubble had fallen on workers who cried out for help.

"Shit," Claudette muttered under her breath, causing Marie to give her a horrified look and slap her wrist. Claudette had heard many people swear and mimicked them whenever she was upset, causing everyone around her the shock of hearing such a little girl with such a potty mouth. Claudette didn't care about this, though. She didn't know why there where bad words in the first place. Her Mother said it was a phase. It never went away, though.

Townspeople moved quickly trying to remove the debris. Two big, strong men lifted bricks off of a man who had blood streaming from his face. Claudette was horrified by the sight of the blood. It made her sick. A young woman ran up to the bleeding man, crying hysterically. The man was carried away with the woman following closely behind.

Another man emerged from under the pile of bricks. He stood up, seemingly unharmed. Claudette checked through the crowd of people to see if it was her father. It wasn't. The man's wife and children ran up to him and embraced him. Claudette tugged on her mother's shoulder, nervously.

The rain pelted hard on the townsfolk. It fell so hard it hurt when it hit you. The wind was blinding. People continued to lift bricks away and the ambition of finding her Father built and built.

In the jail cell, Claudette got chills thinking about the time. Why the drippy cell reminded her of the carefully day the cathedral collapsed she did not know. When you are trapped in a jail cell with just a mute woman and a tray of nearly inedible food, your mind wanders. Claudette shivered the type of shiver one gives when they aren't cold.

She thought about how many bricks must have been lifted that night to free the workers. Some were almost unharmed. Others weren't so lucky. They lifted up some bricks uncovering a man who was completely still.

Claudette recognized his scruffy brown beard and green shirt. Her father. The rain beat down harder. People around her Father dragged him out, but it was too late. "He isn't breathing!" a man shouted.

Her Mother broke ahead in the pack. "Louis! Louis!" She cried out her husband's name and fell to the ground beside him. Claudette and Marie watched from aside.

"I'm sorry, Emaline. He has no heartbeat, no breath. He hasn't made it," someone said

"No! No! My Louis! My Louis!" Claudette's mother pounded the ground with her fist causing it to bleed.

The rest of the memory is just a blur of wind and her Mother screaming. Claudette shook her head trying to dismiss it.

It was not just the death of her father that troubled her. Though it was painful, the four years she knew her father were not those she had much memory of. The memories she did have were just glimpses of his face, single words spoken from his voice. They didn't have much meaning to her. What troubled Claudette more was what came with his death. With her husband gone, Claudette's mother sunk into a hole of depression and alcoholism. She couldn't bear being without the man she loved, so she shut herself out of the world. Claudette was left to be taken care of by a five-year-old.

More water dripped down. It landed in Claudette's vile dinner. She ate some of it and swallowed it like a pill with her unclean water. "I hate the rain," Claudette muttered, causing her cell mate to look at her. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it."


	3. Judgement

When you are in a small place for a very long time with no exposure to the outside world, you begin to lose your sense of time. The only way Claudette had been able to keep track of time at all was having the knowledge that she got one piece of bread in the morning and some kind of meal in the evening; but even this was hard to keep track of. She thought she had had about five dinners, but it could have been more, or less. It frustrated her not to know.

It also frustrated her that whenever she asked any of the jail security workers about where here daughters or husband were, they wouldn't say anything. She sat in silence most of the time.

Sometimes Claudette would try to make conversation with her cell mate, but these conversations were always one sided and usually about what Claudette hated.

"I hate these benches. The seats aren't wide enough for me and they are cold and uncomfortable."

"I hate this food. The bread is stale and the meat is thin and dry. I don't even know of it is meat."

"I hate the police here. Why won't they tell me anything? I don't even know my sentence. Will I even have a trial?"

Most of these conversations were short. Once Claudette realized that Agatha wasn't responding to her talking, she would stop talking and continue the conversation in her head, just periodically muttering nonsense.

One day two large men wearing uniforms came to her cell door. "Claudette," one of them said. "Come with us."

Claudette stood up and brushed some of the dust of off her dress. She followed the men down the stone corridor of the jail passing cell after cell of sickly, dirty women. "Where are you taking me?" Claudette asked.

The men remained quiet.

"Where are you taking me?" Claudette asked again, a little louder.

The men still said nothing. She passed a cell with two young girls in it. One of them saw her. "Mama!" she exclaimed. It was Azelma. She ran up to the bars of her cell and grasped them. Eponine sat of the bench of their cell eyeing her Mother, but saying nothing.

"Girls! Girls! My daughters!" Claudette said, stopping by their cell.

"Let's move!" one of the men snapped.

"Mama don't go!" Azelma shouted. Claudette continued to follow the men down the hallway, looking back at her daughter who stared at her.

Eponine remained still with her arms crossed. "Sit down, Zelma, she doesn't care about us," Claudette heard her say. Her heart sunk.

The men led Claudette down another hallway. This one had no cells, just doors leading to various rooms. She men opened the door to one of the rooms and led Claudette inside. It was a large room, but not too large. There were benches on both sides of the room, a table, and a desk. The men pointed to the table and said "sit" very sternly, like how one would say it to a dog. They sat together on one of the benches.

The door opened again and a man in judge's robes came in. The two men nodded at him. He made his way over to the desk and sat facing Claudette.

So this was her trial, Claudette thought to herself. She thought it would have been in a larger, more grand room. She put her arms on the table.

"Claudette Thenardier," the judge said. "Claudette Thenardier is your name, not Camille Jondrette?"

"Yes," Claudette said.

"Good. You are much more cooperative than your husband. You'll learn that the more you comply, the easier this will be. Now, I have some questions to ask you before I give you you're sentence," the judge said. Before Claudette could respond he pulled out a piece of paper and said "You live in the Gorbeau Tenement, room 6, is this correct?"

"Yes," Claudette said.

"Who lives there with you?" the judge asked.

"My husband and my two daughters, Azelma and Eponine. That is all," Claudette said.

"Describe to me the man who was in your apartment the night of January 24, 1832," the judge said.

"There were many men there," Claudette said.

"The old man," the judge said. Claudette wondered how the judge knew the man was old. The man had escaped before the police arrived.

"He was a philanthropist. He came to our home to help us pay for our rent," Claudette said.

"What where you doing that night?" the judge asked.

Claudette shifted in her seat. "I was ill in bed," she said.

"Were you really ill or were you pretending to be ill to get this man's charity?" the judge asked.

Claudette wondered whether or not to lie. "I was feeling under the weather," Claudette said. This was more of a left-for-interpretation lie than a straight out lie.

"What brought this man to your house?" the judge asked.

"He saw my daughters out on the streets. He felt bad for them and came to help us," Claudette said. Again, another half truth.

"Describe to me what happened," the judge said.

Claudette bit her cheek inside her mouth. What did they already know? Have they spoken to her husband? What cover story did he muster up? "The man came to our apartment with his daughter. He said he wanted to bring us more money so he and his daughter left and he said he'd come back alone that night." She paused to think.

"Continue."

"When he came back we discovered that he was a man we used to know. We used to care for his daughter when she was little, you see, and since then we became very poor and they had become very rich. He was going to give us more, that he didn't have, so he was going to give a letter to his daughter that I would bring to her and she would read and give us money. But he gave us a false address. He was never meaning to truely help us."

"Then what happened?"

"Well of course we were angry. Before we got the chance to do anything, though, we were sent a note from our daughter saying the police were there and-"

"Why we're the others in your house?" the judge asked.

"Visiting," Claudette said.

"You mean to tell me that the Patron-Minette were merely visiting you while all this was going on?" the judge asked.

"I never said it was the Patron-Minette," Claudette said.

"You think I don't know it's the Patron-Minette?" the judge asked. "I know everyone involved in your little scheme. They are all locked up here too! They have all come in here for questioning too! And they have all given me a slightly different story as to what happened! Now Claudette, you don't know what we do and do not know. So tell me the story again but this time with the full truth, no holes, and things will be much easier for you!"

"What I said is true," Claudette said.

"Police heard your husband say he was going to slit the man's throat," the judge said.

"I never said that," Claudette said.

"But your husband did!" the judge exclaimed. "You wanted money from this man so badly you and your husband were willing to kill him. You were going to put his daughter in danger and do whatever you had to for money. That's why the whole Patron-Minette were there. They were there to help you accomplish this scheme. You knew all along what the plan was!"

"You have no proof!" Claudette shouted. "The old man, he ran away! He escaped! He was a criminal too! He is a bad man! He is the reason we are like this! He practically stole the lark from us so many years ago and we lost our main source of money!" Claudette was boiling with anger. "We are the victims, not him! He owes us that money! Why is it such a crime to want to earn that money back?" She slammed her giant fists on the table.

The two policemen stood to try to control her. The judge shut his book. "Take her back to her cell," he said. "Keep her there for five years."

"Five years!" Claudette exclaimed. "You cannot lock me up for five years!"

"Consider yourself lucky," the judge said. "Your husband was given ten."

"Ten years?" Claudette was shocked. "What about my daughters?"

"They haven't been questioned yet," the judge said. "But probably not too long for them, since from what I've perceived, they were just props in this and didn't know the plan. Now away with you Claudette. You'll miss your evening dinner."

The men led Claudette out of the room and down the hallway back to her lonely cell. Five years. That was many many morning breads, many many evening meals, many many days of one-sided conversations about hatred. The men locked her cell doors. She would never step out from them again.


	4. Richard and Little Boys

There was a young woman in the cell across from Claudette's who had two sons. The woman rarely spoke but when she did speak, all she would talk about were her sons. One was eight and one was five. Their names were Antoine and Daniel. Claudette found it strange and obnoxious that she knew so much about these boys, but didn't even know their mother's name.

The woman would sometimes sit on the floor of her cell and just chant to herself "Antoine, Daniel, Antoine, Daniel."

Claudette was angered by the woman. She did not want to listen to her talk about her boys. She despised little boys. When the woman started her chanting, Claudette would bang her fists on the cell bars and yell to the woman "Quiet! Quiet I say! No one wants to hear about your sons!"

The woman stopped and said to Claudette "I am in grief. If you had sons you would know how I feel."

"I do have sons," Claudette said. "I got rid of them."

The woman scowled at her and went back into her mind. "Antoine, Daniel, Antoine, Daniel."

Claudette let go of the bars, making them rattle. She walked to the back of her cell to try to escape the woman's noise, but nowhere she went helped her any. "I hate little boys. I hate them," Claudette muttered.

Agatha's head perked up from the bench where she was resting. She had a curious look in her eyes, wanting to hear more explanation to her recent hatred.

Claudette spoke in a low whisper. "After my father died, my mother met a man named Richard. He gave me five brothers, then left without a trace. I hated those boys. I extended that hate to my own boys. They are good for nothing little things."

She thought back to Richard. Her mother met him four years after Claudette's father died. Claudette was eight. Marie was nine. One afternoon in early July, the two sisters were at the playground.

Their Mother was at home, sleeping, Claudette presumed. These days it seemed that all the mother could do was sleep. Claudette was usually only supervised by Marie, the only nine year old in Le Pin that wore a bun.

The playground they played at was really not a playground at all- more or less just a rusted swing set and some dead trees to climb on. Claudette liked it all the same. She would run around and climb all over things while Marie sat still and worked on her needlepoints and sewings. This particular afternoon, while they were playing, a carriage rode into town. The girls watched it pass the playground.

"Whose carriage is that?" Claudette remembered asking her sister.

"I've never seen it before," Marie replied. "No one in town has a carriage that expensive."

"We should follow it," Claudette said.

She was afraid Marie would say no, but instead she moved some stray hairs out of her face and said. "Let's go."

They ran behind the carriage and followed it down a street. It parked in front of city hall and a man stepped out. He was very tall with jet black hair and a handle bar moustache. He saw the two girls who ran up to him panting for breath. "Hello, young ladies," the man said.

Marie stepped back timidly but Claudette was not intimidated at all by the tall sophisticated man looming over her. "Hi, sir," she said, extending her hand.

The man shook it. Marie looked at them like they were crazy. The man spoke. "Do you know of any inns or other places to stay in town."

"No, sorry," Marie said, but Claudette had other ideas.

"There is a spare room at our house you could rent," Claudette said.

Marie's eyes widened and she pulled Claudette aside. "Are you crazy? We can't invite this man into our home! Mother would never approve."

"Mother said we needed to find ways to earn money," Claudette said. "Here he is. A blessing. You said yourself that Papa's money was running out. We don't want to be poor. He's perfect."

Marie did not think it was 'perfect', but she said to the man, "you'll have to speak to our mother."

"Sounds good to me," the man said. The girls led the man down the road to their little cabin. The cabin was not far from the city hall. It was the house Claudette grew up in; covered in climbing ivy and lillys. It looked small on the outside, but had three bedrooms and a dining to separate from the kitchen. Marie and Claudette led the stranger into the house.

"Mother!" Claudette called as they walked in. Her mother did not emerge from her room so Claudette walked inside. Marie watched from the doorway, still unsure about the situation. "Mother," Claudette said again. "There is a man here who needs a place to stay. Can he stay here?"

"What child?" Her mother asked, climbing out of her bed and slipping on her robe. It was the first time she had gotten up all day. She followed Claudette into the front room where the man was waiting.

"Hello Madame," the man said, taking off his hat and extending his arm. "My name is Richard. Your daughters told me that you have a spare room to rent me."

Her mother eyed her daughters then shifted her glare the tall handsome man standing in her house. "There is a spare room upstairs," she said.

"Thank you, you are oh so kind," Richard said. He nodded to her. Claudette thought he seemed very gentlemanlike. He handed some money to Claudette's mother.

At the sight of this money, which Claudette thought had be a large amount, her mother's face lit up and she instructed Claudette to go up and make sure everything was ship shape in the spare room and Marie to put on some water in the kettle to make the man some tea.

Claudette remembered being excited to do these chores, which was strange given how much she hated doing housework. She thought it was thrilling that this man was staying at her house. She felt like a real innkeeper.

After these chores were finished though, Claudette lost complete interest in the man. At eight years old, her attention span was rather small, and she soon became preoccupied with her music box and stopped paying attention at all to Richard. She completely missed what happened that evening.

Somehow during the evening, something happened between Richard and her mother. They fell in love. Somehow this stranger had come into their house and turned their normally stoic, out-of-touch mother into her old cheerful self that the girls had not seen for four years.

It was decided that Richard would stay for longer than just one night. He said he would stay the week. But as Claudette's mother and Richard fell deeper in love the week turned into the month. The month turned into the year, and the year brought with it baby Thierry.

Thierry was a large baby who cried frequently and threw things. Marie thought he was the best thing to ever happen to them, but Claudette thought of him of more of a nuisance than anything else. Still, she liked him. She did not have to do a lot of work for him; her mother did the majority of the care.

Richard continued to live with the family. She was nice to have around. He took Claudette and Marie to the fair and to the theatre. He bought them toys and candies and beautiful dresses. He became more and more like a father to the girls.

At the end of the next year, baby Jean-Clause came to them. He was smaller than Thierry and cried even more frequently. Having two babies was much more care than just one and Claudette was expected to do more work. Still she had free time though and still had time to play.

The next year Richard took the girls on a trip to Spain, Claudette turned eleven, and her mother had twins. Edmund and Henry. Their cries were thin and shrill. Four babies were a lot of work. Claudette found herself always being told 'no' upon asking to do things because she had to help care for the little boys. She became rather bitter towards them.

The next year things became strange. Richard began to ask suspiciously, disappearing for long periods of time then coming back as if nothing that happened. He became secretive and stopped gifting the family with his riches.

When the fifth child was born, sickly Luv-Pierre, Richard was not even there. When he returned three days later he didn't even seem to care the boy was born.

About a week later he came to the family and said "Claudette, Marie, Emaline, I am very sorry, but I cannot stay here any longer. It was wonderful knowing all of you. I will not stay in touch, but I will miss you all very much." He tipped his hat and left the house.

"What do you mean you can't stay here anymore?" Claudette's mother asked, following him out of the door. "Your children are here! You cannot leave! Richard come back!"

Richard got into his carriage and rode it down the road never to be seen again.

That evening while Claudette was feeding the twins and Marie was lulling Lux-Pierre to sleep, there was a knock on the door. Claudette's mother answered the door to a large policeman holding up a poster with Richard's picture drawn on it.

"We are looking for this man. There have been reports that he was saying in your house. Is that true?" the policeman asked.

"Why are you looking for him?" Claudette's mother asked.

"He is a major jewel thief. We believe he's been living in one of these little towns outside Paris with a fake identity. Have you seen him?"

Claudette's mother looked at the man, shocked for a moment. She composed her self and said "no, officer, I've never seen him."

The policeman nodded. "Sorry for disturbing you, Madame. If you do per chance learn anything, be sure to report it."

"Yes, Monsieur," Claudette's mother said. The policeman left and Claudette's mother broke down into tears and cried nonstop for the remainder of the night.

Since that day Claudette's mother sunk back down into her depression. She retreated to her room where she let herself get drowned in alcohol once more. She decided she would never give anyone her affection again.

This left Claudette and Marie alone to take care of the five little boys. To this day Claudette could still hear their piercing cries whenever she thought about little boys. Hearing about the woman in the cell across from her's sons only made her think of crying and how her childhood was taken from her at twelve.

"Antoine, Daniel, Antoine, Daniel."

Claudette covered her ears and hoped that her being meal would come soon so she could have something else to think about other than little boys.


	5. Escape

It was cold in Claudette's jail cell. She still wore her thin tattered skirt and torn chemise that she had on the night she was arrested. Her husband had made her rip her chemise to appear poorer. She wished now that she hadn't.

Claudette took deep breaths to try to stay warm. She figured she'd been in jail for about ten days. How could she last five years?

Agatha, who was oddly awake and sitting up, also appeared to be cold. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth subtly.

There was some sort of disturbance at the other side of the jail. In the distance Claudette could here noises. There was a loud crash and some people shouting. Claudette stood up and moved toward the bars to try to figure out what the commotion could be.

There was more shouting and Claudette could hear footsteps. "What in the blazes could that be?" Claudette wondered aloud.

"Last time there was that much racket was when someone tried escaping," a woman from the cell across from Claudette said, the cell mate of the woman with sons.

Claudette looked around her cell wondering how it would be possible to escape. There were no windows to climb out of- and escape by window climbing Claudette noted had been fairly unsuccessful in the past. She could not see anyway to get through the bars. The only way to open the doors was with keys guarded so heavily by the security men. Maybe there was a way to move the stones out of place, Claudette wondered.

The commotion stopped for a moment and the jail was quiet. No one wanted to break the silence, so they all sat still.

The silence went on for quite a long time. Then it was broken by footsteps. They seemed to be running and they were moving closer and closer to Claudette's cell. An officer with a lantern appeared next to Claudette's cell and he shined the light on her face.

"She's here!" the officer shouted.

"What is going on?" Claudette asked.

"Quiet!" the officer shouted. "Where is your husband?"

Claudette was confused. "What do you mean where is he? He's here in jail where you put him!"

"He's escaped," the officer said. "Where did he go?"

"Escaped!" Claudette exclaimed. She was utterly shocked. How could he have escaped? How did she not know?"

"Where did he go?" the officer asked again.

"How would I know?" Claudette asked. "I'm here! I've been here this whole time! He didn't tell me anything, that brute!"

"She doesn't know!" the officer shouted. "We better keep an eye on her just in case, though!"

"Yes," another officer shouted from down the hall, and they both left.

Claudette felt an anger boiling inside her. Her husband escaped and didn't take her with him. How could he do such a thing. She cried out in grief then shook the jail bars and fell back into her seat.

She and her husband were supposed to be a team. They worked together. "But he left me," Claudette said, not realizing she said it aloud. "He left me here to rot! He doesn't care! He never cared!"

Where could he be right now? How would Claudette ever find him again when she was released? There'd be no way! Claudette cried out again. Her husband never cared about anyone but himself. What about her precious daughters? Did he leave them here too? He must have!

Claudette imagined her poor babies having to learn that their Father escaped from jail without them. She punched the wall and embraced the pain it brought. It was hard for her to imagine the last time she'd ever see her husband was when they were arrested. It was the last time she'd ever see his face and hear his voice.

Then a thought dawned on her. "What if he's coming back for me?" Maybe there was a whole plan. Maybe they planned to come back for her. There was hope! Any minute now the Patron Minette will have stolen the officer's keys and will come running in here to break Claudette out.

The fantasy was very grand. Claudette decided to accept it as truth. They were coming. She just had to wait. So she sat by the bars and watched for someone to come.

Time went by and she saw nothing. Then she heard footsteps. Where they coming. In the distance she saw someone in a police outfit. Maybe her husband was disguised as an officer! It was all becoming clear.

He was carrying something. What could it be? A chair? Why was he carrying a chair? As the figure got closer Claudette could make out his face. It was not her husband's face. It was just another jail worker. He set down his chair in front of Claudette's cell and sat in it.

"What are you doing?" Claudette asked.

"Watching you to make sure you don't try anything," the officer said. "An don't ask me questions. I can only ask you questions."

Claudette moaned. There was no chance he husband could break her out with the guard nearby. It was a silly speculation anyways. Her husband wasn't coming. No one was coming. She would always be alone.


End file.
